To Find The Perfect Airship Crew (OCs needed!)
by OrenjiJemi
Summary: In which Cassandra the time traveller makes up the favour she owes a future airship captain. Currently working on Chapter 8. See "The Effin' List" for open positions (currently there are 5), Guidelines, and the form. CONTEST OPEN as of 1/11/14
1. The Effin' List

AN: An informative note to everyone looking for a position:

Cooks:

-Elina Archer, submitted by Bubblina Gumdrop, **First Appearance: Mideival France, (Sugarpunk) Prologue: And Then Came Recruiting Part 4**

-Cake Von Scweetz, submitted by BlackRose56 (She seems like she wasn't changed from an original Sugar Rush racer too much, so expect me to take some artistic liberties. I might need to change her age and boost it up a little bit (10-13, it won't matter anyway since this entire storyline goes throughout years and years of stuff so she'll go through a age change eventually, anyway.), but _oh gosh _am I gonna have fun with this one!) **First Appearance: Peter Pan Approach****  
**

Crew mates:

-Herschel Nadeu (Pilot of Airship), submitted by Wreck-It Ralph **First Appearance: Off To The War Of Hypnotized Children**

-Kevin "Lucy" Maver the Third (Technician (Weaponry designer)), submitted by stiven54 **First Appearance: Not Even Trying**

-Elektrik Zaup Zourbal (Off-ship Fighter), submitted by DMysterious, **First Appearance: (Sugarpunk) Chapter 1: Inspiration**

-Megan Mary Hughes (Minor Marksman, spy), submitted by M (I'll put the translation in the chapter she appears in, and M, if you took the time to read this, great job. I might change a few things to get her to a definite time period, maybe from the late 70s' or so? I dunno, it's your decision.) **First Appearance: Ghosts Who Hate Pink, (Sugarpunk) Chapter 1: Inspiration (Mentioned)**

-Ricorai "Rico" Vient (Marksman), submitted by riverraiden **First Appearance: Ghosts Who Hate Pink (Montioned), (Sugarpunk) Chapter 1: Inspiration (Mentioned)**

-**OPEN**

-**OPEN**

-**OPEN**

-**OPEN**

-**OPEN**

Misc:

-Blackcomet the Virus (Position DECIDED, but confusing as fuck.), submitted by Sangremoonlight (This was basically just to add her. She's a bit of an antagonist, but still sort of a part of the crew. It'll make sense when it happens. Yes, we've discussed the fact that she's from the video game-verse, different dimensions, no worries.)

This document will be changed as positions are filled and there purposes are decided. Good luck. (Now if only someone would submit an epic ninja chick (Oh god a Shiina, I want one, I want one, I want one (don't bother looking it up, she's a character.)))

**Rules You Will Follow/OC Guidelines:**

**1. **You WILL NOT flame me or the creators of other OCs, even if they aren't accepted. Be civil in your criticism, folks, or your character will be killed off.

**2. **Your OC MUST either: Be from a different time period, be from a different dimensions, and/or be from a different land (made up by you, made up by me, or IRL.)

**3. **You WILL NOT submit an overpowered OC, you cross the line of overpowered when you give me an OC that's like the avatar or virtually as strong as a god or some shit.

**4. **Age limits: 10-70. If your character is really young (15, maybe.?) and really powerful, they will not be considered, unless under extreme circumstances (Meaning: I can make this character badass.). If your OC is really old (Like 50+) and NOT powerful, I find them to be dead weight, therefore not considered, unless there an add-on of some sort

**5. **Your OC CAN have up to 3 add-on characters, meaning family, pets, someone that isn't related to them but close, though it should be said that any such add-ons won't be focused on much, or not at all.

**6. **You WILL consider submitting someone other than a fighter. The cook positions are filled, but we still need MEDICS, TACTICS ARTISTS (Stay on the ship kinds of people who plan out attacks and usually get to be bad-ass and smart.), ETC.

**RULES I WILL FOLLOW:**

**1.** I WILL NOT pair characters romantically without the agreements of both owners directly to me (You can't say "BLAH" agreed to this", it has to come from them, too.), but partnerships professional, platonic, and otherwise will vary throughout the story.

**2. **I WILL NOT kill off your OC without telling you in advance, at which point you can object, agree, or stay silent, which implies agreement. Keep in mind, this doesn't limit flashbacks or whatever jacked-up shit I think of (Maybe dreambubbles? Zombies? Ooooh, alchemy?!).

**3. **I WILL include your character if they are on the list above.

**4. **If something drastic is going to happen to your OC, I WILL inform you in advance. Rule 2 response consequences apply.

**5. **I WILL pay attention and respond to any and all ideas given to me protaining to any of the stories related to Sugarpunk.

**THE FORM:**

**Name (First, Middle (If any), and last, if it's an actual Sugar Rush name, change it a bit to fit whatever time period your OC is from.):**

**Age:**

**Birthdate:**

**Time period (In the middle of a certain war, or in peace of a certain era, past and future accepted.):**

**Job (It doesn't necessarily have to be a fighter, it could be a cook, or a blacksmith, or...whatever. Not something ****_too_**** magical, it could be witch or something... This is required."None" isn't an answer.):**

**Hair (Color, length, then style):**

**Eyes (Any accessories included):**

**Skin tone:**

**Build:**

**Clothing:**

**Other features (Scars, birthmarks, etc.):**

**Hitory:**

**Personality (Detailed and they CAN'T ALL BE KIND, SWEET, AND INTELLIGENT. We need some really diverse characters to make this work.):**

**Weapons (If any):**

**Strengths:**

**Weaknesses:**

**Fears:**

**Quirks (Obsessions, habits, etc.):**

**Location (Country, if there's any specific place...?):**

**Love interest (Options: None; Wanted (provide traits, they'll most likely be paired with another OC. We CAN do homosexual, heterosexual, and bisexual. No worries there.):**

**Friends (Give personalities that would be close to this, because we have...our own views on characters.):**

**Enemies (Same as "Friends):**

**Other:**


	2. Prologue

**AN: RIGHT? This is basically just being used because you folks don't submit OCs too often anymore.**

**This story is like a prologue to Sugarpunk (Which is, coincidentally still in its prologue, meaning this will be revealed as the actual story is.), in which on OC of ours, Cottoney Sugarwisp, which, in this AU, is a time traveller, Cassandra Wispley, going to random points in time to get some crew mates for whatever fucking reason, for Katya Kasaianenko, an airship captain in mystic steampunk-type Victorian age. **

**The form and other info is at the bottom, but because we CAN'T not make this a story (pray to Tyche this isn't deleted.), here ya go.**

* * *

"I'm in need of companionship, dear child!"

She was a loud woman, a clever woman, and a complete psychopath all in one. Not even a woman at that, just a _girl_. At fifteen, she requested the ten year-old Cassandra Wispley to give her a personal army of savages, ninjas, Vikings, and "_those food-folk", _as she called them.

"Cooks?" The child asked, raising a brow.

The teen threw up her arms, screaming joyously,"Yes! Give me about fifty of those. I'll need them to feed my thousand-men-and-justified-women army."

Cassandra sighed, not skipping a beat as she replied,"I'll give you TWO cooks, and ten crew mates. You get no more than that, Miss-"

"-_Captain-"_ Katya cut in (It was never too early to be assured she had the ship).

"Kasaianenko."

The brunette smiled down at her (but not much, she hadn't grown much since Cassandra's age), and without a word, walked away happily, a bounce in her strides. She was soon followed by another teen, Moony, her soon-to-be second in command.

* * *

**AN: Okay, so send in by PM or review. We may make minor changes, but we won't break your character. Two characters per person AT MOST, and don't fear if a chapter is added, we add to keep this story from being buried in the archive, and we'll say when the contest ends. May Tyche be with you, good luck, dudes.**


	3. Off To The War Of Hypnotized Children

**AN: (Orenji) Okay, this'll be for the first OC we had officially accepted, Wreck-It Ralph's (The author) Herschel Nadeu. Hope we got him right, dude. I know a bit more about the Army than the Navy, so...I dunno, there might be some differences I didn't catch?**

**So, we'll be using some theories and stuff from Doctor Who (Did you know there was a new mini-movie out? Night of The Doctor, dude.), seeing as that is wonderful freakin' time travel at work.**

**THE CONTEST IS STILL OPEN.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Off To The War Of Hypnotized Children

Summary: We go into the heart of WW2, in which we find the airship's pilot.

* * *

Cassandra walked along the hall with a five year-old girl in a light blue night gown. The younger was rubbing her hazel eyes with her right hand, clutching Cassandra's hand with the other. She looked up at her a bit later, in a daze having woken up in the middle of the night (It was around 2 in the morning, now.), coincidentally right before Cassandra's departure, and asked,"Cassy, why are you up so early?"

"Why are _we_ up so early." Cassandra corrected, then replied,"I have to go on a mission...to repay a favour I owe someone."

The child tilted her head to the side,"A mission?"

Cassandra sighed wearily, praying to _god_ this girl wouldn't be dead when she came back, then smiled widely," Yup! The thing is, though, I'll be gone for quite some time, and..." She looked around for show, then kneeled down to whisper loudly,"Im going to need you to make sure no one goes down to the catacombs."

In the same questioning voice as before, the girl asked,"Why?"

Cassandra gestured for her to lean in with her hand. When she did, Cassandra whispered in a grave, secretive tone,"It's where my secret kingdom is.". Not really. That was where the lab was.

The girl's eyes widened, as she gasped silently. She jumped back,"No way!"

Cassandra stood up straight, smiling again. She took the girl's hand again, tugging a bit,"Come along, Princess. We needn't let you stay up all night."

_"I promise to come back some day..."_

* * *

Soon, she stood in front of the home of one old couple.

"The grand parents of one Herschel Nadeu." she muttered under her breath.

Straightening her already neat clothing, she walked up the steps of the old-looking home. Knocking on the door, she stood straight, waiting for the occupants of the household to greet her. Soon enough, the door opened to reveal an old but healthy looking woman. She looked down at her quizzically, and seemed as if she was going to ask something when Cassandra interrupted.

"Ah, I believe you're Missus Nadeu, correct? Seeing as I'm in the _second _half of the 21st century...communication...it changed quite a bit in...oh, but it could be the time of the Great Outage, but...no, they aren't using transportalizers yet..." She babbled on to herself. Eventually, she shook her head, just looking at the woman silently.

The brunette looked at the child in front of her with her eyebrow risen,"Ya done, kid?"

Cassandra's eye twitched at the speech pattern, then nodded. "...Um, might I know where Herschel Nadeu is? Its quite imaprative that I find-"

"Canada." And then the door was slammed.

"What a _rude_ woman!"

* * *

"Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell m-"

"Alright!" The woman yelled. Without turning, she said sternly,"Word War 2.".

Casandra wrote it down on the small pad she'd acquired from a shop that the woman had stopped at about two blocks ago. "Very well. That's a bit cryptic, though."

The woman facepalmed with her free hand, then answered,"Come on, kid. It's lunch, anyhow."

So they sat in a booth, the woman eating and Cassandra just sitting there.

"...He's back in time. World War 2. It was a year ago, we had just-"

"Thank you for your time. Compiling the sets of data of acquired from that time period-oh, I became quite interested after you mentioned it, and I borrowed your technological device-I've found one matching the description of the boy. I'll be on my way then; Goodbye, Miss Nadeu." Cassandra stood up, walking away. A few moments later, she quickly walked back, placing the befuddled woman's phone on the table. Then walked off again.

"What a _rude_ kid."

* * *

And now a _dog _of all things was staring her down.

If there was one thing in the world that Cassandra hated, it was bad time management.

Dogs were a very, _very_ close second.

"Now...I don't quite like you, and you're quite frankly giving me the kind of look that Minerva gives her enemies. I...that's quite frightening." She trembled as she was cornered in the side of the room that she'd landed in when being transported back. She stuttered out,"N-now I think if we try to be more civil with each other we can negotiate something; I could possibly just...not be here, and you could let me go! I'me quite certain that you don't understand me, but I s-suppose that's alright considering I could b-bribe, and then you'd owe me freedom, but you could be the type to-"

"Excuse me, but why exactly are you talking to my dog?" a male voice asked from the doorway. When she looked over, she found a man fitting Herschel Nadeu, nineteen year-old fighter pilot in WW2. Average build, brown hair, brown eyes, Caucasian, goatee-

"Well that pretty much sums up about have of the men here." Herschel said, now sat next to her on the floor. (She refused to cross the room with "it" still in there).

Cassandra looked up, having been reading a book before,"I'm well aware, Sergeant Nadeu. It was hard not to notice the residue, though." She giggled, as if it should have made him embarrassed.

He just stared.

Cassandra stopped laughing,"...Oh, I'm sorry. As far as I had been informed, you were acquainted with time travel..." She trailed off.

"Not for a year." He said.

"It does leave it's mark, of course." She began to explain,"Especially in an old model like the one you used. Honestly, the things that were done Pre-Armada Era. It's quite embarrassing to all for us time travelers." She shook her head,"Nowadays, er, in the future, we've been able to design machines with much less residue being left on any users. You can hardly sense it on me, but you...you stink of it, I'm afraid."

Though this hardly mattered, it was still interesting. Or, that's what Cassandra convinced herself as she continued her monologue.

* * *

As the three walked out of the barracks, the dog, Rebel, being kept a minimum of five feet away from Cassandra (as she had ordered), she requested they go to a more secluded area for travel.

As they went down a road, she muttered something.

"Could you speak a bit louder? I couldn't quite hear you." He asked.

She huffed, crossing her arms,"I said: Happy Birthday...it said so on your profile." she quickly added the end. Straightening as she faced forward, she continued,"Considering something life-changing always seems to happen today...for your birthday, you get an airship to guide. Congratulations, pilot."

"..."

She glanced at him,"W-well? That was completely from the heart, you wanker!"

And then he smiled widely, still silent, he gave her a large noogie, which rewarded him a hard jab with her staff.

"Ah, kid. That's awesome!"

"...I've found that your captain will most certainly like you. Oh, and her alter ego will attempt murder within a week of your arrival, just so you're aware."

* * *

**AN: (Orenji) Okay, that's it for now. Submit your OCs! We need them. **

**2 cooks still needed**

**8 crew mates still needed**


	4. Ghosts Who Hate Pink

**AN: (Orenji) So...here's another one. We've decided to do the OC's intros pretty randomly, and ****_will _****take some chapters simply to develop the characters, when they enter the Candy Kingdom-**

**(ohholyshitdamnitadventuretimeinfluence) **

**-and Cassandra, who's gone to modern-day France.**

**Oh, and we don't use accent quirks or whatever, because M has stated that she uses a translator and that stops it from translating correctly.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Ghosts Who Hate Pink

Summary: Cassandra goes to modern-day France to investigate a case given to her on the side, and ends up finding two new recruits from France that couldn't be more different.

* * *

Katya thought for a moment, staring at a large map, showing a far-off country, or island, or something else unidentifiable. She finally, and quite suddenly, spun around to face the blunette and brunette in her sister's father-in-law's office. She leaned hunched over so her face was an uncomfortable distance from Cassandra's; finally saying in her usual bold tone,"So, you're dumping the man of heavy-heavier than air, I might add-flying objects upon me? Why, he looks far too derpy to understand my directions!"

Herschel quickly tensed, but stood up straight with a stern expression,"I promise Captain Kasaianenko, I'll be the best pilot you could ask for!"

Katya turned her gaze to him, a wicked smile on her dark red-painted lips, still leaned to Cassandra she whispered loudly with her hand shielding her mouth in the direction of Herschel, as if it would stop him from hearing (Though someone as smart as her had to know it didn't. For the sake of irony...right?),"Oh, look, Cassy! He's already calling me captain! What a _charming_ possible future-subordinate!"

Cassandra rolled her eyes, saying out loud,"Not taking into consent that you don't even own the ship of your interest yet, I suppose that's a good thing."

Katya stood fully, shrugging,"Well he's already beating out Second-in-command over there-" she gestured to Moony,"-so I could care less.". Grabbing Cassandra by the hand, she dragged her in the direction of the door, but stopped midway to point back at Herschel, "Stay." being her only command. Then, the two girls exited.

As they walked down several small flights of uneven wooden stairs, the reached the main deck. Going to the side with a certain chunk of wood hanging out, Katya pushed the younger towards the thing, and finally lifted her with ease, up onto the wood.

Breathing a sigh of exasperation, she pointed outwards from the large "pirate ship" in the sky, commanding loudly,"Now, go get me more underlings!"

"D-don't you think this is a bit dangerous, Miss Kasaianenko-?"

"Oh, none of this now! I mustn't keep our newest waiting! Now, if you won't go now, and I don't get to make someone walk the plank, then-god dammit, I'll make it happen!" She pulled out her long sword, jumping up onto the side with ease, and, with a fast _swish, _Cassandra had dodged, inevitably falling off of the plank in the process.

"Oh bloody-!" Acting on instinct, she grasped her bronze pocket watch, tapping a button. Suddenly, everything stopped, and she simply hovered. "Levitation and time-stopping, wonderful together. Now, commission list..." She tapped a seemingly-random spot on the watch, and a menu appeared in front of her, and she tapped a button labeled "Commissions". Then, the automated voice comes on, childish and female.

_"A few new ones have appeared, one in Germany-"_

"I've had enough of _those_ people to last me quite awhile."

_"Well possibly a small town in Florida-"_

"Oh my- nope. I know who that is, and she's quite alright by herself."

_"Then France. Your last option is France."_

"France it is then!"

* * *

As Cassandra walked through the streets of modern-day France, a cat, Himalayan breed, walking in front of her in mock-elagence, knowing only Cassandra knew that she as _actually mocking her._

_'Telepathic connection enabled. Can you here me, Miss Cassy-chan?'_

_'Yes'_ Cassandra responds, then quips,_'You aren't Japanese, Com.'_

She could here an echo-ey giggle in her head, then the childish voice,_'I know, Miss Cassy-chan. Miss Sakura-chan taught it to me.'_

_'Installed, you mean.' _Inwardly groaning, she turned a corner as the cat led her towards a lesser-known art museum, known mostly for its hauntings; because the art inside was actually not too good at all.

But the hauntings, well, this is what you'd been called in for! You weren't an exorcist, but a consultant. You were simply here to observe and gather intelligence with Fluffy, as the unnamed program was being called now.

As they entered, a girl at the front desk looked up, with a prominent accent, she asked (thank god for the translator chip.),"Hello there, um, you need to check in to enter. It's basic-um, oh, darn it. I'm afraid this is my first week on the job. And...well, i really don't speak much."

Cassandra smiled softly,"Understood. Oh, and I'm afraid my companion will have to enter with me, if that isn't a problem."

The teen looked contemplative for a moment, then smiled,"It's okay, I guess. I mean, if it means you'll be entering...Anything for the gallery, of course."

* * *

_'That direction Miss Cassy-chan!' _Fluffy yells in Cassandra head, scampering quickly to the right. Cassandra quickly follows (or as quickly as she can in her Mary-janes, that is), as the program scans for activity. _"Data acquired. 1500s', around here, I think. And super restless, like so much that if you like walked into him you would like totally get drenched in ghost blood or whatever!'_

Rolling her eyes at the program's apparent new speech pattern, she stopped with the cat, sitting on a small padded bench to gather and sort the data recently acquired.

"Oh, this is probably our best piece." A voice from her right, the direction she'd come from, says. Cassandra looked up to and saw the teen from the desk, smiling at the piece in front of her.

Not to say it was out of place, but it certainly was. It was beautiful, extremely complicated, but beautiful. Not anything like the rest of the "art" in here.

"...after my name."

"Hm?" It was only now that Cassandra looked away from the piece, up at the older girl. Her hands were clasped together over her pink dress, as she stared fondly at the painting.

She blinked, then began again,"O-oh. This picture...it's based from my name. In Greek, Megan-oh, my name's Megan, by the way-means pearl. Done in the late medieval era, out of character for the time period, but...well, its here, I guess."

Cassandra takes into consent that the spherical objects within the painting were numerous pearls, thousands of them in different shades of pinks and blues and greens, done into a design that made it look almost real, the metallics looking startlingly noticeable against the light, smoky background. She finally asked, quietly as to not disturb the calm aura that was around them,"How could they have known your name?"

Megan shrugged,"No one really knows. We have theories, though. Papa assumed it was something of a prophecy, he tends to stick to old methods, or...well, lots of theories.".

Though they began to talk about different subjects, and Megan sat down next to Cassandra and Fluffy, her forest green eyes continued to twinkle as she looked at the painting.

"So, you're new to Paris? And at such a young age; you shouldn't be traveling alo-"

_'It's the painting, Miss Cassy-chan!' _Fluffy's voice sounded in her head suddenly. Without waiting for a reply, as the the bewilderment in her face was enough, the "cat" continued,_'The girl, too. It seems all calm when she's around when you look around here, but the emotional turmoil is so abundant-Gog, it's practically vibrating off of the thing!'_.

"Well then..." Considering it in her mind, she thought the idea preposterous, and not to mention this girl looked and acted like a minor! But...well, it would...

_'She gives off the right vibe, Miss Cassy-chan.' _

So, taking Fluffly's advice, she grabbed the girls hand before any consent could be given, and she was pulled toward the painting, which Cassandra's pocket watch was held out to, scanning, and the environment around them dissolved.

* * *

"Why are we painting it pink, Papa?"

"Because, my boy, it's meant for a girl."

The younger huffed,"Stupid girls. They like pink too much, and they'll never play archers and apples with me!"

* * *

**AN: (Orenji) Oh, oops. Only one was REALLY introduced, but I hope that the owner of the other OC got the implications. Here's a revised version of M's form:**

**Name: Megan Mary Hughes**

**Age: 17 **

**Date of Birth: February 25, 1996**

**Time Period: Modern-day **

**Job: She wants to become an actress and singer, she also became a skilled marksman, skilled with a gun **

**Hair: light brown, Mid back-length, and curly **

**Eyes: dark green**

**Complexion: White **

**Build: tall and thin **

**Clothing: pink dress and pink shoes**

**Other Features: a mole under her right breast (AtN: Oh shit, TMI) **

**Story: Megan has lived a normal life with roughly her family (which she never speaks to much), she loves television, computers, music, and films, and loves drawing, she dreams of being a celebrity and having an adventure **

**Personality: nice, a little boastful, extravagant, she often behaves like a child, but she can be serious when needed, sometimes jealous, she likes to have time alone, but she also loves to be with her friends, **

**Weapons: Marksman, primarily a gun.**

**Strengths: agile and brave, shes good with technology**

**Weaknesses: Afraid for her friends**

**Fear: Her death and that of her loved ones**

**Quirks: she speaks without stop when she starts up, a passion for films, or drawing anime, prefers and compares to her favorite characters**

**Location: Paris, France**

** Love Interest: None **

**Friends: Who can understand her passion for fictional characters and drawing, she likes kind and understanding people**

**Enemies: The normal antagonists.**

**Other: Her favorite color is pink.**

**Okay. I'm on a roll here, dudes. The contest is still open.**


	5. From Whense Our Marksman Came

**AN: (Jemi) I am ****_genuinely_**** uninspired. It's bothering me. So, I right to my iPod. I have a nano, and that's cool. Your high-tech asses can suck my dick (Which I don't actually have, unless there's something I'm not telling you, or me, for that matter.). **

**Vote on the damn poll if you want the characters to finally start the expedition! We need a expedition leader for the team Sky Voyage is on. Megan is officially a Headcanon mafia member. Oh yes. I've always wanted one of these...**

* * *

Chapter 3: From Whense Our Marksman Came

Summary:

"You're a Paris native, and yet you don't know how to get to your own home?"

"We mustn't keep out ghost waiting."

"It _is not_ just a watch! It's a data base, and from the far-forward future of a civilization your species doesn't even know!"

"Time to abscond, Miss Hughes!"

"WHERE THE HELL IS MISTER VIENT!?"

* * *

Cassandra swore that this was the same bakery theyde gotten breakfast from. Now, it was lunch.

"Miss Hughes, where are we?"

The older girl, now biting into a bun, shrugged.

"...Do you mean to tell me that youre a Paris native, and yet you don't know how to get to your own home?"

Megan shrugged again.

* * *

The two walked along the long line houses, their attire not having changed since Megan was pulled into time traveling with Cassandra, who was now doubting her decision.

"Swords?" She asked, continuing down a list of possible skills. They were half way down, and the only answer she'd gotten yet was a shake of the head. "Archery?"

Megan giggled,"No, I don't think so. I mean, I used to shoot as a kid, but...well, it was a gun. Not a bow."

Cassandra smiled proudly,"I can work with this. Come along, we mustn't keep our ghost waiting."

* * *

"...And it came out of the _watch?_"

Cassandra sighed, rolling her eyes,"For Umpteenth time Miss Hughes, it _is not_ just a watch! It's a data base, and from the far-forward future of a civilization your species doesn't even know!" Magan just stared, awaiting an answer."...Yes, your gun came from the watch. Now put the damn thing away, it hasn't been invented yet, and I don't want to get arrested."

* * *

And appearantly, their money was inadequate. It is quite enough to not know at all where you are, but to be broke as well, that was terrible. No, terrible was a gross understatement, they were utterly inside if a void of fine-fucking-art, Fluffy refused to speak, and they were _less than broke. _They had unknowingly just stolen from a bakery, and had exactly $-10 in there savings.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods-! Miss Hughes, we've gotten ourselves in quite the conundrum!" Cassandra yelled, running from an angry family of Italian bakers. "Time to abscond, Miss Hughes!". For a moment, it was as if time slowed as the sword was jammed at her head, she only dodged it by a second. As she ran in her pink Mary-janes, the backs digging into her heels as she ran through the down-sloping alleyway, Megan being pulled after her by her wrist. As a steak knife passed her left ear, she yelled back,"Oi, would you quite that? It was TEN DOLLARS!"

"Retourne enculer les mouches!" (1)

And that left her wondering why her translator app was malfunctioning, until-

"Ugh! Rude much?!" Megan yelled back.

Ah, the censoring app.

* * *

Finally, as they entered the small multi-purpose high-class home of one noble family, they were left with one question, as prompted by a nanny telling them that the nobles needed were off on a hunt.

"WHERE THE HELL IS MISTER VIENT!?"

* * *

**AN: Ha! I got inspiration from Doctor Who. The premier ended less than an hour ago, and you guys better be reporting on that shit right. Fuck. Ing. Now.**

**(1) Roughly translated to "Go fuck a cow."**

* * *

~EXTRA~

And around 2 in the afternoon, Megan asked another question.

"Are you a Time Lo-"

"No. I don't have a ship, nor do I regenerate, nor am I a "Lord". I am a woman, after all."


	6. Not Even Trying

**AN:(Jemi) Wow, okay.  
**

**I'm gonna update some shit, because shit no be on hiatus, so there. **

**(Inside I was all like _'So whatcha' gonna do now, mothafuckaaaaaaas?!'_, but then I stopped myself, because Dori parasites are in my mind saying _'But that's rude, Jemi!'_ and then I was all like _'Nuh-uh you crazy insect bitches/mental representations of my friend!'_, and then I typed this.)**

**...That just happened. I'm not sorry.**

**So, basically, I'm giving two goddamn characters their own little multi-chapter thing, and so they get to help me get the next OC from their respective place and such. On the other hand, I now present to you: Poppy Munro, witch and fellow recruiter to the rescue. Look out, future, we're here to steal your people.  
**

**Alternately titled "When The Author Accidentally Described A Wand like A Boner For A Few Seconds."**

* * *

Chapter 4: Not Even Trying

Summary: An introduction to Cassandra's companion in the art of recruiting, because not everyone can be as good as a certain two siblings. And there's also the fact that one of them's ten and the other practically blind (Synesthesia, bitches.)

* * *

In hopes of catching the audience's attention, despite the fact that I, the third person omniscient narrator will explain this scene simply as EXTREMELY complex.

More to the point, it looks nearly as diverse as the magic shop of Pablo di Angelo, but not nearly as friendly. Let steam-powered hermit crab helpers be replaced by one humongous robot with its metal rusted and its beady, glowing red eyes mirroring those of the little witch's bright green mouse-eared hood, connected to a same-colored cloak. Poppy Munro had been waiting for this; Ella never let her play with _her _giant robots.

"So, basically," she said in her naturally loud tone,"I've been summoned because Cas could never take care of herself, and basically needs a little-" her eyes flashed just as her hood's did,-"-_luck_ on her side." Through this, the childishness never left her voice, the mischief clear in her eyes and the maniacal smile that shown in her voice as she said "luck". She examined the robot, smirking, then flipped a coin in her hand. The hood that shadowed her face didn't hide the large smirk on her face as her hand clenched around the gold, and only made the low chuckle vibrating in her throat seem more menacing. As it grew louder, her shoulders shook as she cackled and placed her coin in the chest pocket of her white blouse. She stopped laughing entirely, but she stayed in her place levitating in the air, her shoulders tense with her head tilted down as her large hood shadowed to her nose. Her face was now calm, but solemn.

"The Candy Kingdom's grandest coin, to me at least, is the Corieuro. This coin is made only of the purest gold, and can be found among the native population of what is now our great kingdom's darkest caverns. These are, strangely enough, not all too famous among my people. Of course, this may have something to do with the old natives' _cannibalistic _tendencies; I mean, it isn't all that doubtful, but _really?_" She shrugged,"We've all got our fears. I don't like goddamn mind readers for some obvious fuckin' reasons, and they're aall hatin' on cannibals.". She shrugged again, then continued,"The coin...it isn't worth much-no, it isn't worth anything anymore. Hasn't been worth anything for _decades._

"The back of the very special coin of mine has the symbol of the oldest tribe to the north, the Winterpop Tribe. They made them, after all. Their symbol is a Snow Terror, a beast of which you could not imagine; equally fun to play with. The front is that of majestics, of an art perfected throughout the ages to just...perfection!" She gave a giggle that sounded of jingling bells and could make you smile in any situation, but she never used in any but ones that miraculously made it terrifying.

"You got heads." She whispered barely above a breath,"Heads-" her voice began rising very suddenly,"-as in, the art-" she smirked once more, baring her teeth,"of _decapitation!"._

She drew a wand from her pocket, the slick black stick in her grip transforming within seconds. It became longer and thicker, and Poppy loosened her hold slightly to accommodate the size. One end began to sharpen and shot outwards in parallel directions. This continued until she wielded an obsidian black axe, the blades jutting out of the sides, extremely large and sharp. It had the smallest purple tint that could only be seen in the gleam, and the blades crackled with small bolts of blue-white electricity.

She quickly shot off from her spot around fifteen feet off of the ground, zooming directly towards the robot. Its arm gave a slow sweep, causing a harsh wind to go in her direction, send her right, but it didn't stop her from landing on the right outstretched arm and slipping across the metal, dragging her axe behind her and giving the robot a large gash so that wires could be see underneath the surface. The head shot in her direction, the mouth slit opening up slightly to shoot several different substances in her direction; she quickly dodged bullets of different sizes and colors whizzing in her direction by defying gravity and gripping the axe and going to the underside of the arm, and clinging to the wedged-in axe, still trying to avoid the harsh wind.

"Not that you have any goddamn morals or anything, Mister Robot; but it's considered rude to shoot at blind people!" She screamed over the wind. "And little fuckin' girls too, you motherfucking psychopath!"

Climbing up the weapon slight to touch the metal surface of the robots arm, she pulled out a marker (given to her by Cassandra who had recently acquired it from far in the future). Scribbling a small symbol onto the metal in metallic purple, she didn't wait for it to dry before touching and unleashing a small zooming blue line in the direction of the robots body; it went under the surface from one of the cracks and throughout the tunnels underneath.

Slowly, it disabled functions, stopping the flow of electricity piece by piece. First was the hurricane arm, which simply stood in place mid-swing, then left eye, which began to flicker out before become completely dark, then the mouth closed and the sounds of bullets above her stopped, and finally the entire robot simply stood still. Poppy let go of the axe and levitated, slowly wrenching the axe out of its slit and transforming it back into a wand, slipping it in her purple ribboned knee-high black boot as she moved to sit on top of the unmoving robotic arm.

"That was fun!" She smiled, pulling her hood back slightly so if didn't shadow her face but was still on her head. "Now," she peered around sightlessly, then located a small hatch on the side of the head. She pointed towards it, looking in the direction with her head tilted slightly,"I won." She stated,"Please come out now, Mister Maver. If you don't, my own squire won't trust me with a mission ever again!"

After a few moments, the hatch opened to reveal a scruffy-looking teen around the she 17. "Hey." He stated plainly.

Poppy snorted, unladylike, the replied,"Hi, Mister Kevin." She then asked,"Please, explain something to me. Why didn't you try? That's not even half of your strength and we both know that."

He shrugged,"Didn't care much. One of my clients demanded I be on meds or whatever because I attacked a stooge."

She raised a brow,"Wow, okay then. Like whatever, this planets overpopulated by now, anyway."

Kevin shook his head,"Not really. With the current war, I dunno, maybe...a fourth of the population? Has been destroyed."

Poppy hummed, nodding."Well, come on then. We're going back to simpler times."

Kevin stopped,"My robots. I need to invent."

Poppy smiled,"Easy! We've got an engineer named Ella Bing. She lives pretty much like you, 'cept she's got a mansion, but whatever."

He nodded."So, just out of curiosity, what would you have done if it had landed on tails?"

Poppy shrugged,"Nothing. I'd've just left and given a high-oh big "fuck off" to Cas if she tried mentioning it. Chance is a mysterious art."

* * *

**AN: (Jemi) So, I tried being kinda serious. **

**To stiven54: Sorry for the lateness, I was kinda blown away by the dual France thing. I hope I got him right. (Edit: Of course I wont forget. Louis are already creepy, though. Gog knows I'm fuckin' terrified.)**


	7. Mideival France

**AN: (Orenji) Nyup! Let's characters be characters. Here, we are back to Cassandra.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Mideival France

Summary: As the story progresses, we find getting a cook from a time period she doesn't belong in isn't that hard.

* * *

She stood silently, like always. She was being yelled at, like always. She was thinking of stabbing the fucker, like always.

"Are you kidding me?! Child, you'll listen to me. You'll put down my axe, you won't ever be as good as a man. Get back in the kitchen with your mother, like any daughter of mine would." His scorn had always cut deep, he was one of the few people in her life, and what he said mattered. Her father wasn't an influential person per se, but he had always been able to control those closest to him; her, her mother, all of those who had actually believed her when she said she could do this or that (Once; any hope of success had diminished from her attempts.).

As he said this, she clutched the axe. As his verbal assault continued, her hopes were starting to crumble, and her grip began to loosen. _"Don't."_ It was a soft whisper from an unidentifiable location, but she heard it clearly, her voice held a bit of an echo. As she glanced sharply around, she saw a younger girl, thirteen perhaps, standing next to her in strange clothes. It seemed as if her father couldn't see her. She looked up at Elina, her expression as solemn as a child's could be,_"Don't let go." _

And so suddenly, she was holding onto the girl's arm. And so suddenly, they weren't in her home anymore.

* * *

Cassandra, who had recently been deserted by Megan in hopes of seeing an old - or technically new - performance in a local theatre. As the blunette walked along the cobblestone sidewalk, she was suddenly grabbed from behind by a strong grip wrapping round her wrist. With her other hand, she positioned her pink and white staff defensively as she swung around. She immediately faced pale green-white eyes, framed by raven hair and green fabric.

"Hiya, Cas." she chirped, wiggling the fingers on her raised red-gloved hand in greeting.

Cassandra just stared in confusion. "Do I...know you?"

"Future you does!" She answered. "I'm filling in right now. I was working on it, and then she went back, and...well... I lost the recruit..."

So she was still doing that. "That's quite the coincidence, I'm looking for someone at the moment."

"Team?" The mouse girl held ou her hand, and Cassandra took it after a moment of hesitation.

So, the sight of a blue haired child being dragged along by an over-enthusiastic pale-eyed teen wasn't all too surprising in the "slums" of this old kingdom. The elder yelling,"Miss Cook Girl", and the younger hoping to see the flash of the shining black of a certain bow, or, apparently, the glint of a silver gun.

"Cassandra! I'll save you!" A female voice with a heavy French accent yelled over the carriages and quietly chattering people around them. A bullet sounded over the sounds, narrowly missing Poppy's head.

"Please, inform the blind girl." Poppy deadpanned,"Did someone just shoot at me?" After a moment of silence, she threw up her arms,"Really? You have no respect. None! She held up her hands, moving them around,"Oh, wow. Well aren't _you _pink, Miss Megan!" She giggled,"If only you were this shitty of a shot in five years!"

"...What."

Poppy calmed, a loose smile on her face that somehow reached her eyes,"It's time travel, you wouldn't understand it. Sometimes I don't, and those are my sanest moments." She finished cryptically. Her mood then changed once again, back to enthusiastic, "Come on, I've got a silent cook to find!" She ran in the previous direction, eventually disappearing around a corner.

"It would be best for us to follow her." Cassandra grabbed the sleeve of the coat she had allowed Megan to borrow in the cold weather, dragging her along after the witch.

* * *

"_You can't give in..." _The voice was there once again, it had stopped after Elina had blacked out and woken up in the alley, extremely cold in her muted orange-colored dress and apron alone, the only practical things she wore being the dirty work boots she had begged her parents for instead of her mother's hand-me-down heels, which she could never walk in.

_"Don't give up, Cook Girl!" _It tried urging her on, trying to make her stand up from her crouched, defeated position. She was strong-willed, she knew this well, but no one was perfect. She hadn't ever been anywhere but her family's slice of land and occasionally the town with either or both of her parents. She didn't like it. When she was in unfamiliar places, that is.

"STAND UP, MISS COOK GIRL!" The echo was gone, and it was just...it was close to her left ear, she thought. Her eyes cracker open in a squint. There stood her young girl, this time seemingly seen by everyone else in the area, as of the next comments.

"Cas, tell me, is she awake?" She asked, kneeling in front of her, a hand held near Elina's face (She had been wearing a bright red glove before.), her head was tilted slightly and her face scrunched conversation,"I can't get a good enough picture."

"Yes. She's squinting at you." A higher voice answered, this one more refined and sort of English-sounding.

"Then I repeat myself." She commented, "Get uuu-up!" She said "Up" as if it were a two-syllable word. As Elina didn't comply, with an inhuman strength, the girl pulled her to her feet by her apron strings. Elina stood almost a foot taller than her, but the girl still peered up at her with too-pale eyes and hands on her hips, determined and triumphant.

"Hi. I'm Poppy Munro, you're Elina Archer, and you get to cook for a Princess." She stated simply, then, as there was a clicking from the direction of the elegant voice from before, and she blacked out again.

This was already getting old.

* * *

**AN: (Orenji) I'm sorry for making her look defenseless for now, Bubblina. **

**Merry After-Christmas.**


	8. Peter Pan Approach

**AN: (Jemi) . . . . (dot, dot, dot, dot.)**

**And sorry for putting the poor little nine year-old in this fucked-up situation, but I don't _do _"a peaceful era". I do the _end _of one.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Peter Pan Approach

* * *

It was damp, and it was dark.

It was cold, and everything felt, _tasted, _sour, sour, sour. Bitter, disgusting. As the young blonde girl hunched in a fatal position under her blankets, which remained soft even after all of the wear and tear. She sat with a holopad, that she had selfishly kept, balanced on her knees as she swiped around with her fingers, the grime not smudging the hologram.

Cake had always had a strange sort of sunny disposition. And everything...it had it's own taste; it had to do with feelings and the emotions in the room, because victory was sweet and the deep sadness faced most recently was always so sour and bitter and disgusting. She tasted all of the emotions in her vicinity like it was normal, and it, in a way, was for her.

Then there was a pounding at the scratched up, once light blue wooden door, now dust, the paint chipped. She dully remembered when she'd helped her mom paint this room; they could have had the drones do it, but something about painting a child's room with all of the shades of sweet and slightly salty - to match the seaside home - was devastatingly sentimental, just made it so nice. Now, the paint in this room was chipped all over.

A strained voice yelled from the other side of the door, asking her to get up. _She WAS up, _she wanted to yell back. She didn't though. The knob on her door twisted slowly, being stopped several times because of rust, until the door was opened. It creaked open, the figure of her mother in the dim light of the hallway.

She kneeled down next to the mountain of a blanket, slowly lifting up one side to look in at her daughter. She smiled gently, but her eyes looked disapproving,"Hon, have you been up all night?" She sat next to Cake, looking down at the girl,"I know you care about your studies, but I have work and you...aw, little duck. You have to stay and protect home again." She gave an apologetic expression.

Cake looked up, saying in her naturally quiet way,"I could go work at the bakery, again. They have good pay and always let me help..."

Her mother shook her head,"Nope." She patted her daughters head,"Sorry, duck. I'm not going to let my little 9 year-old out of the house." Her expression darkened,"Not when the world's like _this." _

The silence was broken soon after, a voice piping up from the doorway,"Maybe I could help?".

Her mother turned quickly, soon having an old gun in her hands,"Who are you and how did you get in?" Was uttered, her mother's voice dropping to a near-whisper.

As Cake moved slightly to look past her mother's kneeling figure, and was stared straight in the eyes by another's. The were blue, but had the slightest pink tint that seemed to dig down into the pupils. They were startled, but as she looked at the porcelain face they belonged to, it wasn't surprising that the squeaky feminine voice had belonged to a girl near her age. Framing this face, sky blue hair, like those people she used to see on TV, dying your hair was becoming a fad of sorts when the war happened.

"U-um. timevortexdumpedmeherebecauseweneedacookandFluffysaidthatshewouldbehere..." She rambled on, holding up a shiny bronze watch.

"...Get out of my house, kid." Her mother didn't seem nearly as startled as her or the girl.

Cake waved slightly, and the girl waved back when her mother wasn't looking. She mouthed something that Cake didn't understand, and suddenly a clicking noise sounded and she was gone.

* * *

Later, as Cake lie in bed, she thought. She stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, but how was she supposed to? Maybe just...what had that girl meant?

A tapping sounded against her window, metallic and very fast. Her eyes widened in terror,_'The drones?!' _

But, no. Immediately having hidden herself under her blanket, she couldn't see too well. But after a moment, as the tapping had stopped, she peaked, only her face showing. There, outside of her window on the ledge was a girl in a green hood, gazing in at her past bulky goggles and far-too-pale, unfocused eyes. She waited a moment, then the hand that was placed on the glass was removed, but still hovered in her direction. The girl motioned with her other gloved hand; first for her to move forward.

Hesitantly, Cake slowly edged her way out of her blanket, but not before slipping a blanket covered hand over her bedside table to grab her knife. The girl suddenly giggled, but shook her head when Cake gave her a questioning expression.

Now, she stood in front of the window, looking up at the almost hovering girl. The raven-haired girl pointed to the latch keeping the window shut. Cake clutched the knife tightly, but still complied. This was too interesting to pass up.

As soon as her hand had left the unlatched window, it swung open, the girl quite literally swooping in, her cloak making a '_whoosh'_ing sound as she finally perched on a bed post. she looked down at the blonde child, a small smile on her lips,"Hiya. I'm here to take ya on an adventure! Across the worlda' mine to the great land of Arcadia!"

"..."

The girl looked down at her with a raised brow,"You aren't too bright, are you? You're supposed to be astounded and thrilled right about now." She hinted, shaking her head,"The offer of a lifetime, kiddo. I'm not even makin' you pay!". After another silence from Cake, the girl was gone in a flash, and suddenly her hand was empty, and suddenly she was in the air, and finally, it was all black.

* * *

**AN: (Jemi) Wow, I feel like I should title this "The Rapist Approach". Except I won't, because there will be no approaching of rapists.**

**You know why? My last Christmas pleasant just got here. I officially own a rape whistle.**


End file.
